


Break Your Heart And Give You Mine

by coloursflyaway



Category: Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies), Captain America RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF
Genre: Angst, Dancing, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1527743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Sebastian have never really been friends, but when Chris comes back to shoot yet another movie with Sebastian, everything changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break Your Heart And Give You Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [npw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/npw/gifts).



> This is a (far too late) birthday present for Jaclyn, who is lovely and wonderful and just downright amazing.  
> Thank you for everything, dear ♥

When Chris sees Sebastian again, after not having spoken to one another for more than a year, the other still looks the same, but different. It’s the same hair, the same bright blue eyes, the same smile which starts slowly and then overtakes his entire face, makes the room light up. Later, in the solace of his room and wrapped in the darkness of night, Chris figures it must be the colour of Sebastian’s lips, which used to be light pink, but now are an almost angry red, must be the way the other ducked his head a little and looked at him through his eyelashes when he greeted Chris.

 

(Sebastian doesn’t mingle with the other, stays on his chair with a cup of coffee in his hand and a half-forgotten smile on his lips. Being back, being here again, feels a little bit like coming home.)

 

Someone fixes the last part of his new costume in place, and Chris can feel himself changing. It’s subtle, but he’s standing straighter, holds his head a little higher, clenches his fists a little tighter, slowly leaving Chris behind and finding Steve again, who is hidden somewhere behind memories of sun and beer and a million afterparties. Which is easier than it should be, as if he had been waiting for him to come back to this the entire time, and maybe, Chris thinks, he was. Because there is something so special about making these movies, a certain kind of energy, a certain kind of love which tints everything a slightly brighter colour, sharpens the edges until they leave imprints in Chris’ brain. He loves it, and loves it maybe a little too much.

The three women who helped with all the buckles and straps and zippers step aside and let him take a good look. Although Chris has seen the costume before, it still takes his breath away a little when he sees it now, finished and heavy and still light enough he knows he will be able to jump and toss and turn in it. He’s about to say something, most likely a compliment, but then the door opens, slowly and almost hesitantly, revealing Sebastian, who looks a little tired and yet content, whose eyes linger on the costume for a moment before he looks up at Chris.  
“Oh, sorry, must be the wrong room, I keep messing that up.” Sebastian is smiling and Chris can’t help but letting his own lips curl upwards in response. It’s moments like this which make him wonder just why they never talked more, never really became the friends they most likely should have become when playing two characters as close as Steve and Bucky. “Looks good, though.”

For a moment, Chris is confused just what Sebastian means, but the other gestures towards his chest and that is enough to make him realise that it’s the costume which looks good. The women from the costume department seem to be quicker, because before Chris can say thank you, they are talking, smiling, flirting.  
Chris can’t blame them.

 

He only sees Sebastian again two days later, because they are shooting different scenes, him with Natasha and Anthony, Sebastian with Robert , and while he hasn’t missed the other, he’s still happy when he sees Sebastian sitting alone at lunch.  
“Hey, mind if I join you?”, he asks more out of courtesy than because he really needs the answer; Sebastian looks up at him with his eyes wide and surprised and still content and Chris doesn’t know just why it bothers him.  
“No, of course not”, comes the answer and Sebastian smiles, beams at him, full lips stretching to reveal a line of white teeth, and Chris wonders just which part of this feels like it’s blinding him. Before he can find the answer, though, he sits down with his own tray of food, smiles back, wonders what to say and realises just how little he knows about the man in front of him, apart from things he was asked on panels, or the few times they talked in breaks, on parties. It's amazing how someone like Sebastian, who is radiant with his bright eyes and pink, now red lips, with his perfect smile and melodious voice, seems to sink so easily into the background as soon as the cameras around them stop filming.

“So how did filming with Robert go?”, Chris asks in the end, because it’s the best thing he can think of; talking about work seems to always break the ice. And it does, because Sebastian laughs, his eyes sparkling with mirth and just a little bit of embarrassment.  
“I walked into a fridge the first time we were in the same room, but apart from that, I think it went okay”, Sebastian replies at last, a hint of laughter still clinging to his voice, makes his vowels a little softer, his words blending together slightly. “He’s amazing. I never thought I’d be able to work with anyone like that.”  
There is still a hint of a smile in Sebastian’s eyes, making them brighter than they already are, and Chris grins back, then speaks without thinking. “You’re quite amazing yourself. Marvel’s lucky to have you.”

It’s such a normal, nothing special compliment, something which maybe should make Sebastian smile and thank him, maybe should make him crack a joke, but instead the other’s face lights up until it’s as bright as the sun itself.  
“Thank you”, Sebastian says, which would be alright, would be what Chris expected, but there is honesty, a sense of surprise in the other’s voice, as if he’d never have expected to hear anything like this. “That’s… thank you.” He sounds happy, sounds content, but it makes Chris’ heart a little heavier.

 

(With his fingers still around the plastic fork, Sebastian looks at Chris’s smile and stores it away in his memory, for that night, or for later, or for never, he isn’t sure, but doesn’t have to be. At least not now, when his thoughts are sweet and happy and as if he was made out of sunshine and the first drops of rain after a drought. He wonders if Chris can see it on his face; he most likely can because Sebastian isn’t doing anything to hide it, never has and never wants to.

But no matter if he notices or not, Chris just stays where he is and tells Sebastian he’s amazing, and the sunshine becomes a supernova, the rain a drop of water on the parched lips of a dying man.)

 

He should have done this so much earlier, Chris thinks when he asks Sebastian to join him and a few others for a drink the next day, because just like the time before, the other’s eyes go soft and bright and happy, and Chris isn’t quite sure how something so mundane can have such an effect.  
“Yeah, yeah, I’d like that”, Sebastian replies and his voice is as soft as his eyes. “Where are we going?”  
“Just some bar around the corner.” He doesn’t know why, but somehow Chris feels as if it should be something more special, something fancier now that Sebastian is coming too. But the other man looks delighted, smiles and says, “Okay, sure. Just give me ten minutes, I really need a shower.”  
He doesn’t give Chris enough time to answer, but instead just dashes off with a spring in his step that Chris doesn’t think he has seen before.

 

(There is hot water and soap and Sebastian thinks of the way Chris held his hands clasped in front of him the entire time.)

 

They end up next to each other at the bar, Scarlett, Anthony and two girls from the make-up department in front of them, and Sebastian smiles at him when Chris sets a bottle of beer down in front of the other. He never even asked if the other drank beer, he realises a moment too late, but it doesn’t seem to matter, because Sebastian closes his still-red lips around the bottle and takes a large gulp.  
“Thanks for letting me tag along”, he says almost too earnestly when he sets the bottle down again, smiling a little lopsidedly. “I appreciate it.”

It must be the truth, which makes it so hard for Chris to think of something to answer, but Anthony saves him by throwing a peanut at Sebastian and telling him to stop being so fucking pleasant. Sebastian grins and flicks the peanut right back at the other, only that instead of his chest, he hits Anthony right in the face, cueing at first a moment of silence and then laughter all around the table. It turns into a game, and before Chris knows it, he is trying to chuck peanuts into Scarlett’s drink, who kicks him under the table when he finally manages it.

Sebastian’s laughter blends in with the others’ and it fits so well that it only takes half an hour until Chris starts to forget about it.

 

(From time to time, Sebastian looks over to Chris, who is sitting so close that their thighs keep touching, and while the sight of the other so carefree and relaxed doesn’t make his heart flutter, it makes it swell a little with affection. With joy, too, because this feels nicer than it has any right to feel, feels more right than it should, but Sebastian refuses to overthink, or to think in general, because he won’t ruin this.)

 

It becomes a more regular thing, Sebastian coming along when they go out for drinks, or dinner, and although Chris always has to ask him first, and although Sebastian still looks a tiny bit surprised every time, he doesn’t mind it, because the other’s face lights up too, makes him look young and innocent. And as weeks turn to months, and there are more and more evenings and nights spent together, Chris finds that all of the things he has been telling the press the whole time are, in fact, true. Sebastian really is the sweetest kid, is clever and witty, laughs easily and talks with the hint of an accent clinging just barely to his voice when he gets tired. But there is more still, there is Sebastian who blushes faintly when of the stunt guys makes a crude joke, but still doesn’t even hesitate for a second before he goes along with it; there is Sebastian who smirks when he gets a little tipsy, and starts flirting with whoever is closest; there is Sebastian who sits close to him and doesn’t say a word, just listens, but seems happier than the rest of them.

And as it grows normal to take Sebastian along with the, it grows just as normal to talk to him more on set, to bring him a cup of coffee when he looks as if he needed it, to not even let the other get to a table on his own, but to call him over to sit with him until Sebastian does so all by himself, at first with a small, tentative smile, which, over the weeks turns into a brighter, larger one.

 

(Before coming to set, for a few weeks’ time, at least, Sebastian thought that he was over this, but looking back, he doesn’t know why. For when he looks at Chris, who is tall and broad and yet has a face like sunshine, he can still feel the same warmth, the same tightening in his chest, the same affection which pours from his heart and makes his chest feel too small to hold it all. It’s the same things which Sebastian sees in his own eyes when he looks at Bucky, and it’s the reason why he is glad for the mask they have him wear; this time, he can’t let these feelings change his character.)

 

It’s a warm, bright day, and Sebastian’s eyes are even brighter when he shows up on the steps of Chris’ trailer, two cups of coffee in his hands, one light brown from all the milk Chris likes to put in it, the other black, and, Chris remembers it because it feels wrong somehow for someone as sweet as Sebastian, bitter. The routine is still new, has only started a few days before, but Chris enjoys it, because he enjoys the coffee, and because he enjoys everything which shows that Sebastian, shy, happy, easily-satisfied Sebastian, is growing more comfortable around him, around them.

“Morning”, he greets and snatches his cup out of Sebastian’s hands, takes a sip and promptly burns his mouth.  
“Good morning, Captain”, the other answers easily, with smile that is just there and yet feels strangely important. It’s another new thing, Sebastian calling him _captain_ and Chris calling him _soldier_ in return, almost like pulling rank, almost like friends teasing each other, and it makes Chris wonder if that is what they are by now. Friends. He kind of wants to ask, but decides against it; he isn’t sure what answer he’d expect to get, and not sure which one he’d like.  
The younger man takes a large gulp of his own coffee (it’s another thing Chris has learnt over the past few months; Sebastian needs his coffee like he needs air) and looks Chris up and down, taking in his sweatpants and uncombed hair, then says something which makes Chris’ blood freeze.  
“Oh Captain, my Captain, shouldn’t you actually be on set fighting Soviets?”

“Oh shit.” It’s all Chris gets out before he turns around, suddenly in a hurry, downing the coffee and cursing because it’s still too hot. He doesn’t close the door, but Sebastian does after he has followed him, sipping his coffee, while he flails around, trying to get into a decent set of clothes in as little time as possible. Sebastian’s watching, too, and Chris can’t blame him, because he is sure he paints the most ridiculous picture, one arm stuck in the sleeve of his jumper, the other one desperately searching for purchase. But when he looks at Sebastian’s face again, ready to scold the other for making fun of him, he only finds the slightest amount of amusement in the younger man’s face, mixed with something he can’t quite name.  
Chris doesn’t say a word.

 

(When they arrive on set, Sebastian still has half a cup of coffee in his hand; Chris’ jumper has coffee stains all over it. “You really shouldn’t be so smug”, the other declares when he catches Sebastian smiling. “You’re just as late as I am.”  
And Sebastian lets his smile turn into a fully-fledged grin, takes another sip of his drink before he answers. “Am not. I only have to shoot here in about five hours.” He might be giving away too much, but he can’t bring himself to care; Chris will find out no matter what, the only question is when, and Sebastian isn’t even sure if he’d prefer it to be sooner or later.  
Scarlett slowly shakes her head when he sees them, because she knows, has most likely known ever since she set eyes on him. She worries about both of them, Sebastian knows it, although he has told her so many times that, at least when it comes to him, there is no need.)

 

Filming fight scenes has never been one of Chris’ favourite things, too much noise and too much to concentrate on, too much which could possibly go wrong with disastrous consequences; filming them with Sebastian, though, is almost fun. The other has a certain kind of physical intensity Chris has never seen in anyone else, moves with a grace he should not possess and attacks Chris with a strength that makes it hard to stand his ground, although he knows that Sebastian is slighter than him, more delicate, more fragile. But he fights back and hopes that the other will be able to feel his punches down to his bones, that there will be as many marks left on Sebastian’s body as there surely will be on his.

 

(When he comes home, every single of his muscles is hurting, but instead of falling down on his bed like his body wants him to, Sebastian slowly peels off his shirt and stands in front of the mirror, tries to remember the punch which lead to every single of his bruises.)

 

They’re in some bar again, because it seems like the best way of coming down from another day of fighting; Anthony is flirting with a girl at the bar, Emily and Cobie are destroying two of the stuntmen at tabletop soccer, while Scarlett is talking to her boyfriend over the phone, looking so in love it almost hurts to look at her. So it’s only him and Sebastian and another girl from make-up, who is too shy to even look at them at the table, and Chris wouldn’t mind if Sebastian wasn’t so strangely quiet today, almost to the point where he thinks it might be alright to start worrying about the younger man. And he does worry anyway, at least a little, because although he doesn’t know Sebastian as well as he maybe should, he knows enough to know that this is not the way he is supposed to look when they have the next two days off.  
Chris is about to ask, has the words ready on the tip of his tongue, but Sebastian’s faster, turns around with his eyes wide and impossibly blue even in the dim light of the bar.  
“When we’re finished with shooting, are we going to stop talking again?”

The words come in a voice which doesn’t fit them – it should be accusing, it should be hurt, but instead Sebastian sounds curious, sounds untouched, and Chris is fairly certain that he’d prefer the other version. He blinks, once, twice, and tries to think of what to say, which is so hard when Sebastian is watching him like this.  
“…no”, he finally says, because that is the only thing he is sure of, but not sure if that alone will be an answer Sebastian will be willing to live with.

But it seems to be, must be, because the other smiles, a sunny, sweet smile, and Chris thinks he can see a little bit of relief reflected in his eyes. “Good”, he says and Chris stares, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

 

(Chris looks at him, confusion prominent in his eyes, and in the few seconds before he answers, Sebastian wishes he hadn’t even asked the question he has been carrying around with him for the past few days, because he isn’t sure if he really wants to know the answer. But then the older man says no, and sounds like he never even considered saying anything else, and Sebastian smiles.

They drink their beer in silence after that.)

 

Sometimes, Chris still thinks of it when he catches Sebastian staring off somewhere in the distance, his face blank but not unhappy, and wonders just what is happening in his head. He has never been too good at reading people, but it feels like he is horrible at reading Sebastian, the other like smoke between his fingers.  
How he has gone through shooting an entire movie without starting to care, Chris doesn’t know, but he does care now and can only hope that Sebastian knows it.

 

(Sebastian can feel it growing inside him with every day, can feel warmth turn into heat, what once was just a crush turn into him being in love. It’s beautiful and it’s scary and he needs it to stop because he cannot ruin things between him and Chris, not when it’s so important that they can still look at each other, not only because of the film they still need to make, but because Sebastian isn’t sure if he could take it otherwise.)

 

Chris finds Sebastian next to Emily in front of the make-up trailer, their faces tilted back to catch as much of the sunshine as possible. They are sharing an ice cream cone, passing it back and fro, and looking at their shining, swollen lips, Chris wonders if they are dating. Wonders just why the answer to that question seems to matter so much.

They don’t hear him coming, most likely too concentrated on soaking up the warmth, on the sweetness of their ice cream, but Chris doesn’t mind it much. Instead he just plops down next to Sebastian, who does not even open his eyes, just sighs and hands Emily the cone. “’Lo Captain”, he mutters and licks his lips, leaves them shining wetly. “Finished early?”  
Apparently, full sentences are too much work, but that is more than alright for Chris, who just turns a little when Sebastian slowly opens his eyes, cracks a smile before he snatches the ice cream cone right out of Emily’s hands.  
“Unfortunately not”, Chris sighs and tilts his own head back a little, the sunshine warm on his skin. “Just a little break to keep me from falling over and ruining the movie by dying. They’ve had be beating up stuntmen since seven thirty.”

Dual sounds of sympathy come from the others, and Chris smiles, wants to say something, but Sebastian hands him the ice cream cone without a word, and instead of answering, Chris just takes it, licks and savours the sweetness.  
“Thanks”, he says, wants to hand the cone back to Sebastian, but the other just grins and shakes his head.  
“Keep it”, the other says and ignores it when Emily whines a little, shoves him while still keeping her eyes closed. “I’m pretty sure you need it more than us.”  
And Chris does, closes his eyes and leans back, enjoys the sunshine and the peace and for a second, thinks of the twinkle in Sebastian’s eyes.

 

(It’s too much, all of it.)

 

Something has changed and Chris doesn't know what it is, only knows that Sebastian doesn't look at him anymore, at least not as often as he used to, that his smiles don't seem to come as easily anymore. It hurts in a subtle way, but one which seeps into each of his words, his breaths, his neurons firing. It hurts like having lost something he hasn't really known before, and maybe hurts more for it; Chris isn't sure.

And he tries to change it, tries to get closer again, but instead of squeezing himself next to Chris when they are in a bar, Sebastian goes and gets himself a chair (although he prefers benches, Chris knows that, because that is what the other said when Anthony had asked why he'd rather almost fall from his seat next to Chris than sitting somewhere else; Chris remembers because he had smiled and said that he'd make sure that Sebastian wouldn't hit the floor too harshly), instead of sharing ice cream, he finishes his lunch quickly and then disappears somewhere Chris cannot follow. He must have done something wrong, but he doesn't know what, and therefore has no idea how to fix it.

It goes on for almost a week until Chris asks Scarlett, who looks at him with an expression on her pretty face he cannot read, calls him an idiot and asks just why he doesn't ask Sebastian about it instead. He'd probably know more about it. And Scarlett is right, of course she is, so that is what Chris does, finds Sebastian after they have finished shooting in his trailer, which is easy, since the other man needs so much more time to get out of his costume. He's carrying a sixpack of beer, just in case it's going to be a long night, and yet hesitates for a moment before he dares to knock.

If Sebastian knows it's him, Chris can't fathom, but no matter if, it takes a few moments until there is a soft, tired voice giving him permission to come inside. This time, Chris does not hesitate.   
"Hi, I... I thought you'd maybe want...?", he half-greets, half-asks, gestures towards the beer, and feels even more awkward than he sounds, because Sebastian is clearly on his way home, dressed in a loose shirt and a pair of washed out jeans, his hair still wet. He looks tired, but Chris isn't sure if it's because of the scenes they filmed today or if it's something completely different. But no matter what it is, Sebastian still ignores it, nods and gestures for Chris to sit down.  
He hasn't said a word, but at least he is looking at him, and Chris takes it as a good sign.  
Before he can say anything, he opens two of the bottles and hands Sebastian one of them, watches the other man take a large gulp, head thrown back and neck bared.  
"Look, I'm not really - I mean something must have happened, I know, I just... I don't know what, but if you told me I'd try not do it again." It must be the worst kind of apology Chris has ever made and the worst Sebastian has ever heard, but right now, it's all he has to offer, smiles at the younger man crookedly as if that could make it any better. "I didn't mean to screw up as badly as I obviously did. I didn't mean to screw up at all, actually, but it seems that it has happened and I'm really sorry for that."

Sebastian just looks at him for a moment, and Chris can't help but notice that his eyes are not bright anymore, or at least not as bright as he is used to seeing them. "Are you...", Sebastian finally says, stops and looks as if he'd like to start all over. "Is this- Are you thinking I'm mad at you?"  
Chris blinks and stares, because this sounds as if he'd been wrong, that it's not something he has done, and he isn't sure if that makes it better or worse. "Yes?", he answers, but the word is more of a question than anything else. "I mean, you are, aren't you?"  
There is a soft, kind of melancholic laughter, but Sebastian's eyes don't light up, and therefore doesn't mean a thing. "No, no, I'm not."   
The words are as soft, as melancholic, and Chris catches himself feeling relieved, although he isn't sure if he hadn't rather have Sebastian yelling or insulting him, just because this looks too much like resignation.  
"If anything, I'm angry at myself", the other continues and when he concentrates, Chris can hear the faint signs of an accent peeking through Sebastian's vowels, smoothing out the edges. He still doesn't understand.

Sebastian sits down next to him, the bottle of beer balanced dangerously on his knee, and Chris would be happy because of the proximity, if it didn't feel like Sebastian chose it so he wouldn't have to look at him.  
"I'm not mad at you. The thing is..." Sebastian's voice trails off, and he shakes his head as if annoyed because of it. "It's so strange, I've been thinking about so many ways to say this, but I don't think any of them would work, not right now. It's your own fault, Captain, that you have to hear it without all the nice little flourishes and pretty words now."  
By now, Chris is entirely confused, but Sebastian turns and looks at him, all wide blue eyes and red-bitten lips, no hope written across his face, but something like affection, like acceptance. "The reason why I didn't talk to you in the last few days is that I, unfortunately, have fallen in love with you."

The words don't come rushed, don't come strangled or blurred together, not panicked or dripping with the sound of tears the other has not allowed himself to cry, and it's almost irritating, just like it's always been irritating to see the surprise in Sebastian's eyes when he was talked to; it's as if the other just does not expect anything to come from this. And it's that what Chris notices before he even takes in the message, before his own eyes go wide, his lips part to let out a small, surprised sound.  
Sebastian does not look as if he was waiting for an answer, but Chris wants to give one, though, but cannot think of anything. Of all things he came here prepared for, this was none of them. So they sit in silence for a few more moments, Sebastian taking another sip of his beer before breaking it. "I hope you don't... I hope I didn't make this too weird for you. I'm sorry."

And Chris still doesn't quite know what to say, but he reaches out and puts a hand on the other's shoulder, who doesn't flinch away, but instead whips his head around, a familiar spark of surprise in his eyes. It's exactly what Chris needs to help him speak. "You didn't. It's okay, really, I... you have nothing to be sorry for."  
Sebastian's eyes soften, and Chris watches them go bright again, a sunrise in icy-blue.

 

(They drink all six bottles of beer, sharing evenly, and when they are finished, Sebastian doesn't even ask, just walks over to one of the drawers and pulls out the bottle of vodka one of his stylists gave him once, to _soothe his nerves_. Chris laughs and it makes Sebastian smile a little wider than he thought it would; when he pours them two glasses he spills a little because Chris has scooted over slightly, caused their thighs to touch.

Sebastian just freezes for a moment, because it's one thing to drink their beer quietly, and another to go back to this, to casual touches, but Chris doesn't move away. Instead, he stays close until Sebastian has poured both drinks, takes one for himself and hands the other one to Sebastian, smiles as if nothing has ever happened.

They fall asleep on the couch, both too tipsy to move, and Sebastian's head on Chris' shoulder.)

 

It's only two days later, when everything is almost back to normal, that Chris notices that back then, with Sebastian's words quiet and soft, he never even took a moment to consider. Which is strange and unlike him and yet happened, his brain not even lingering enough to ask himself what this could mean. To him. To them. If it could mean anything at all.

 

(At first, it is a little strange, but it doesn't last long, and Sebastian thanks Chris for that, who smiles when he catches him looking, as if telling him it's okay all over again. And it would be perfect, if it didn't make Sebastian fall in love with him all over again.)

 

The others notice and Chris knows that, can see it in their eyes and smiles and interested glances; they don't know what happened to turn Sebastian avoiding him into the younger man being his usual, sweet, content self again, and Chris could tell them, but doesn't. It's not his secret to share.  
But apparently he doesn't have to, because at least Anthony figures it out all by himself. Chris is perched on some fragment of what he guesses should have been a house or a wall before, and Anthony, who shouldn't leave his spot, does just that and plops down next to him. His gaze is fixed on Sebastian, who looks wild and feral in his Winter Soldier get up and is talking to one of the stunt guys.

"He told you, didn't he?", Anthony asks without even pretending to be subtle; it's one of the things Chris enjoys about the other.  
"He did", he confirms, but doesn't impart anything more, doesn't question why Anthony knows, either.  
"Good." There is a hint of pride in the other man's voice, but even more relief, as if he had been worrying for weeks now. And who knows, Chris thinks, he might have been. "I was wondering when he would. You should think about it. He's a good kid, he really is."  
Chris nods, because it's true, but doesn't answer. Across the room, he catches Sebastian's gaze, who ducks his head, just like he did when they met again, smiling at him; and maybe, Chris thinks, maybe he should think about it.

 

(The others notice, they have to, because Sebastian has always worn his heart on his sleeve and the tip of his tongue and he doesn’t stop with that now; why it makes such a big difference to just know that Chris knows, he doesn’t understand, though. But it’s enough to make it easier to smile again, to make it stop hurting to look at the other, and that is all that matters.)

 

Chris does think about it in the end, although probably not the way Anthony wanted him to. They are in a bar, because that is where they always seem to end up these days, and Sebastian is right where he should be, pressed against Chris’ side, slowly sipping his beer. The other has just arrived, later than all of them, because it always takes ages to peel Sebastian out of all that leather and that metal arm, and Chris keeps looking over at him.  
He’s attractive, Sebastian really is, has this ridiculously pretty face where everything just seems to fit, high cheekbones and wide blue eyes, lips which would make a pornstar proud. They are glistening wetly right now, and Chris can’t help but wonder how it would be to kiss them. If they’d be as soft as they look, or slightly chapped, if they’d taste of beer or something entirely different, if Sebastian would part them easily or make Chris pry them open.

He’s staring and he knows it, but only notices how obvious he has to be when Scarlett kicks him under the table. Anthony has raised an eyebrow, but Sebastian is still oblivious, talking to a woman Chris has never seen before; Chris isn’t sure if he’s glad about that or not.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of too much beer and the rounds of tequila everyone seems to be buying, and before he knows it, everyone is gone and it’s just him and Sebastian in front of the bar, trying so hard to act sober enough to get a cab to pull over.  
And Sebastian turns, suddenly, with a grin on his lips that is as wide as the moon and as bright as the sun, which might just take Chris’ breath away.   
“Thank you”, he says, and although Chris isn’t sure what he is thanking him for, he knows that the other means it.

Perhaps it’s the alcohol, but it’s the easiest thing to reach out in that moment, to cup Sebastian’s face and pull him closer until their lips touch. It’s uncoordinated because Chris has had too much to drink and Sebastian seems to be completely shell-shocked, only lets out a small sound, which sounds like a whimper, sounds like a plea, sounds like a sob, and lets Chris kiss him.  
His lips are just as soft as he thought, if not softer, and Chris licks them open, tilts Sebastian’s head back until he can deepen the kiss, taste beer and mint and a hint of lemon from all those shots.

It’s Chris who pulls back first, but although there is space between them again, he keeps his hand cupped around the other’s cheeks, his eyes on Sebastian’s face. His lips are even redder now, swollen, and for a moment, Chris wants to kiss him again. And he would, goddamnit, he would in a heartbeat, but there are long fingers circling his wrists, pulling his hands down, and Sebastian’s eyes look as if Chris could see his heart breaking through them.  
“Don’t”, he says, and his voice sounds even worse, sounds like rain and cold evenings spent alone, sounds like the first time you make one instead of two cups of coffee in the morning, sounds like an untouched pillow on the other side of the bed. Sebastian sounds like he’s crying, but there are no tears.

 

(Sebastian doesn’t wait for a cab, although the other man calls after him, just walks back to his trailer and forsakes the thought of getting any sleep tonight. He can still feel Chris’ kiss on his lips.)

 

The next morning is the most horrible Chris can remember ever having.  
He wakes up with his tongue swollen and his eyes feeling as if glued shut, the shrill sound of his alarm clock slicing through his brain like blades hewn out of ice. But that is not the worst part, not even close to it, because as soon as he wakes, the only thing he can see is the look in Sebastian’s eyes, the pain Chris knows he put there.  
What he was thinking, he doesn’t know, if he was thinking in the first place (fuck, he doesn’t even know how he got home, only remembers feeling helpless and horrible when he watched Sebastian walk away, his shoulders slumped and his feet dragging), but he knows that he most likely just ruined everything.

His suspicions, if he even dares to call something so certain that, are confirmed before he even makes it to the set, which seems half a world away and like the one place in the world where he wants to be least, because Scarlett is waiting for him. She has an expression on her face which screams murder, and Chris knows he deserves every bit of it, just lowers his head when she comes closer.  
“What. Did. You. Do.”  
Every word is like a punch, delivered quietly but with enough anger to make Chris take a step back.  
“I kissed him”, he answers, because there is no reason to deny it. “I know I shouldn’t have, I do, but I…I don’t know, I didn’t think, and I _wanted to_ _so much,_ and I… fuck, please tell me nothing happened.” For a few, horrible moments, Chris seems to think of everything at once, of robbers and car crashes and of Sebastian bloody and broken, and the whole world seems to grind to a halt and hold its breath in horror. Until Scarlett shakes her head, allows Chris to breathe freely again.  
“No, nothing like that. But, oh God, Chris, how could you?”

It’s a question he cannot answer so Chris just shakes his head, mutters, “I’m sorry.”   
And Scarlett sighs, deeply. “I’m not the one you should be apologising to.”

 

(The night is hell, and the morning after almost worse; why, Sebastian doesn’t exactly know. Maybe, because up until a few hours ago, he never even considered that him and Chris could have a future together, but now, with his lips tingling with the taste of the other’s, it’s too easy to think of another time, another world where they might have had a chance. And of course the other notice, because Sebastian looks exhausted and can hardly stand upright, because he is still wearing the same clothes as the day before.  
When they ask, though, he does not say a thing, only shrugs and turns away.)

 

Knocking at the trailer of Sebastian’s door is even harder this time, because now, Chris can remember just what it was he did, but still does not know how to fix it. No answer comes, but he enters nonetheless, finds Sebastian slumped on one of the chairs, looking as if he hasn’t slept a second. “Hi”, he greets, and the word doesn’t even make Sebastian look up. “I…oh God, Seb, I’m so sorry, I was drunk – not that that excuses anything, I know that – and you looked so… I just….”, Chris lets his voice trail off, because it doesn’t matter, there is no excuse he could think of that would work, no matter how true it was. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It was entirely unfair and unacceptable, and I am just so sorry.”

Sebastian doesn’t say anything for a moment, which seems to be the longest one in Chris’ life, but he looks up at Chris, looks tired, impossibly tired, but not broken anymore, and Chris clings onto that.  
“It’s alright”, Sebastian eventually says, but his eyes are dull and the smile just hovering around the corners of his lips feels wrong, looks wrong and Chris wants to wipe it off his face and replace it with the sunny, sweet smile he has gotten used to.  
He doesn’t know how to.

 

(Scarlett asks him if he is okay three times that day, and Anthony just hovers around him, as if trying to catch every bad word, every bad thought before it reaches him. Emily brings him more coffee than he can drink, and even Samuel asks if he’s alright, and while he doesn’t want their pity (if that’s what it is, Sebastian isn’t sure anymore), it still feels good to have someone care about him.  
Chris is a mess the entire day, fucks up shot after shot until Sebastian catches his gaze and smiles.)

 

It gets a little easier as time passes, although it’s still tense to be around Sebastian, to be around anyone on set, in fact. Because they all know, even if Chris suspects that not all of them know just what he did; he accepts their glares and only thinly-veiled accusations, because he deserves every single one of them. But Sebastian’s smile comes back, gradually and far too slowly, grows brighter, if not ever as bright as Chris needs it to be, grows wider but still looks reserved, and it hurts to think that he was the one who caused it to dim down.

 

(Looking at Chris hurts less and less every time, so Sebastian tries to do it more often, between takes or during lunch breaks, after they have finished for the day, until it gets normal, natural again. And Chris seems to grow a little taller, a little better with every glance as well, so Sebastian makes sure to sometimes, just sometimes, when his lips don’t hurt when they stretch, smile at him across the room, knowing that his eyes are most likely still a little dull, but hoping the other won’t notice it.)

 

Weeks pass and everything gets more comfortable, to the point where Chris dares to let his hand rest on Sebastian’s shoulder for a few seconds; to the point where Sebastian calls him _Captain_ again, and salutes when Chris responds with _soldier_. There is still a subtle hint of guilt curling around every of Chris’ words, though, colouring his smiles and tinting his vision, because he still can’t forget the look in Sebastian’s eyes, the hurt shining in them.

Although he doesn’t know when exactly, somewhere along the line, Chris finds himself missing Sebastian like he was before. Missing them.  
And sometimes, when it’s night, and no one can see the thoughts mirrored in his eyes, Chris thinks of the softness of Sebastian’s lips.

 

(He misses Chris, misses him a lot; he misses bringing Chris coffee in the morning and sharing ice cream in the sun, misses the tequila shots and Chris’ eyes on him.)

 

And just like that, everything is over.  
“That’s it, that’s a wrap for Chris Evans”, Joe shouts and there are a hundred thousand feelings battling in Chris’ chest. Everyone around is clapping, and Sebastian smiles at him from the other side of the room, his blue, blue eyes bright and proud and a little sad, and suddenly Chris feels like crying.

 

(Chris wraps his last shoot and Sebastian can feel a sob choking him, so he smiles with his lips closed, so that it can’t escape; the other still seems to see it even though there is so much space between them. Suddenly he remembers that conversation he and Chris had what feels like a millennium ago, and wonders if the other would still look so shocked if Sebastian asked him if he was going to forget about him.)

 

For once, they don’t end up in a bar, instead it’s a club, and it’s loud and dark and Chris still thinks he can see Sebastian’s eyes shine the brightest blue when he hands the other a beer, leans against the wall next to him.  
“What a ride that was, right?”, Chris asks and takes a sip of his beer, watches as Sebastian does the same. “I’m….” _Sorry_ , he wants to say, _an idiot for hurting you_ , but he doesn’t, because right now, when they have only this evening left and then so much time where Chris doesn’t know if they’ll see each other, if they’ll talk, he doesn’t want to think about the past, the future. So instead he says, “Glad you’re here.”  
And means it.

 

(Chris is glad he’s here. Sebastian is, too.)

 

It's Anthony who drags them both to the dance floor ( _C’mon guys, how often do you finish shooting a freaking superhero movie? You should have fun, not just stand there and watch us!),_ and Chris has the feeling he shouldn’t be surprised; the other man has more energy than all of them together. But they both go along with itanyway, join the others, and at least Chris thinks he must be making a complete fool out of himself, but it doesn’t matter. Emily is grinning at him and Sebastian next to him looks lost in the music, and Chris allows himself just to breathe.  
And perhaps that’s how it happens. Because one moment they are all dancing, and Chris is laughing because one of the techs is trying to do a breakdance move, but then Sebastian’s arm brushes against his, and when he turns to say something, he’s lost. The other’s cheeks are flushed, and for the first time since that kiss, he’s smiling the way Chris has grown so used to; the sight hits him with the force of a train.

Sebastian is radiant and Chris cannot look away, especially when the other man blushes just slightly, ducks his head, and his lips are as red as they were when they met again here. “Hi”, Chris says, because he isn’t good with words, never has been. “Do you… do you maybe want to dance?”  
There is laughter in the other’s eyes and a smile on his lips, and Chris cannot remember seeing him this carefree in what feels like forever. “Yeah, yeah, I think I do.”

If this was a teen movie, a romantic comedy, the music would change to something slow and sweet and longing; it doesn’t, but it doesn’t have to. They end up so close together anyway.

It's awkward at first, too many limbs to be arranged, too many half-laughs and mumbled apologies, but then Sebastian’s hands are on his shoulders and Chris’ on the other’s waist, and it feels natural although it shouldn’t. “Is this okay?”, he asks because he isn’t sure, because the last thing he wants is to make Sebastian uncomfortable, but the younger man just nods, smiles and maybe - Chris isn’t completely sure - maybe moves a little closer.  
Their rhythm is completely off, too slow for the music blaring around them, but neither of them seems to care, their bodies moving together to the beats of their hearts.  
He still can’t tear his eyes away from Sebastian’s lips.

“Can I kiss you?” The words come before Chris can stop them, and he freezes for a second, only lets the swaying of Sebastian’s hips pull him along again.  
“No.” There is pain mixed into the brightness of the other’s eyes again; it’s soft and bittersweet, and Sebastian’s hands tighten around his shoulders as if he needed something to ground him.  
“Why?”  
“Because I can’t have you kiss me again and not mean it.” The smile on Sebastian’s lips is soft and dull and sad, it’s there and Chris doesn’t want to see it ever again, wants to cover it with his own lips and kiss it away; the intensity of the thought surprises him.  
“But I do. I mean it.” Chris tries to catch Sebastian’s eyes, tries to make him understand, but it’s no use, the other is staring at his own hands on Chris’ shoulders. They are still dancing.  
“Can you promise that? That you’ll still mean it tomorrow?” He’s never heard Sebastian’s voice that soft and yet that rough before, tendrils of accent caressing the words. They are meant more for himself than for Chris.  
“Yes. Yes, I can.” Again, he is talking before he can think, but the second the promise is falling from his lips, Chris knows that _he can_ , that itis the truth. It must show on his face, that he is surprised and a little shocked and maybe a little bit relieved, because Sebastian raises a hand (and oh, Chris misses its warmth on his shoulder already) and touches three fingertips to his cheek.  
“It surprises you.” There is a sense of awe in Sebastian’s voice, but it’s subdued, as if the other was not willing to give into it, not now, not yet.  
“Yes”, Chris answers; he cannot think of a way to deny it, and neither of a reason why he should.  
“Me too.”

 

(They don’t kiss, just dance, and end with Chris’ arms wrapped tightly around Sebastian’s waist; with Sebastian’s head on the other’s chest. None of them talks, they just sway to a music no one else can hear, and it’s so close to perfect that every breath he takes feels like a gift.  
When they break apart, it’s almost perfect, but Chris keeps his hand on his back while they walk outside, still not speaking a word (there is silence around them, too, breathless and tense and Sebastian does not care about it at all), doesn’t pull him closer although Sebastian can see that he wants to.

“If you want to…”, he starts, and wonders why his voice sounds so rough, so breathless, so hopeful. “If you still want to kiss me tomorrow, you know where to find me.”  
His heart hurts, his entire chest and every inch of his body which Chris has touched before, but he leans closer and presses his lips against the stubble on the other’s cheek, thinks about how soft Chris’ kiss was the last time. He turns around, feels Chris fingers letting him go, one by one, and tries not to let himself hope.)

 

It’s hardly past six in the morning and Chris has not slept a second, only closed his eyes and tried not to think of Sebastian so hard it hurt, but it didn’t work, only led to him standing in front of the other’s door, his heart in his throat and his hands clenched to fists at his sides. He needs to knock, but he isn’t sure how to, can’t work up the courage to even lift his hand; he’s not scared of Sebastian sending him away, he’s scared of somehow messing all of this up again.  
A sigh, and then Chris turns away, because it’s not even morning yet, he should let Sebastian sleep, should give him time…only to whip around again, knocking maybe a little too loudly, too fast. Because another few hours won’t make a difference, because he is as certain of his answer now as he will be tomorrow; the only thing he is not sure about is how he could have missed it for such a long time.

A few seconds pass and feel like centuries, then the door opens and Chris’ poor heart speeds up until he cannot even make out the single beats anymore. Sebastian hasn’t slept much either, if at all, Chris can see it in the dark rings under his eyes, the still perfect hair and the way he doesn’t let go of the doorknob.  
“Can I kiss you?”, Chris asks before he even greets him, stumbles over the words only to stand up straight again, his voice breathless and thin and helpless, vulnerable. He’s Sebastian’s for the taking. And the other looks at him for a moment, then lets out a breath Chris didn’t know he was holding, and says, “Yes. Yes, you c-“

Chris swallows the rest of the word, feels Sebastian’s lips curling around it still when he kisses him. It's soft, like the look in the younger man’s eyes was soft last night, soft like Sebastian’s lips, and for a moment Chris just stills, then, slowly, gingerly, as if he could break Sebastian with a sudden move, with too much pressure, brings up a hand to cup the side of the other’s neck. Only then, when he can feel Sebastian’s pulse against his palm, he dares to pull back ever so slightly, to kiss the other again, still soft, still slow, still as if Sebastian was made out of fine glass and thin air, held together by the tendrils of a dream. And Sebastian kisses back.

 

(They stay three more days in the hotel, kiss and spend hours just looking at each other, watch their friends leave one by one and promise to call and text and write. Their hands stay locked, and there is a certain sense of security every brush of Chris’ fingers against his skin sparks inside him; it’s like nothing he has ever felt before.)

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)


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